


A Close Shave

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-09
Updated: 2008-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaving off the pornostache.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Close Shave

**Author's Note:**

> Spencer/Brendon with sexy shaving times for natacup.

Spencer walks into Brendon's kitchen and importantly announces, "It's time."

"Is the baby coming?" Brendon asks around a mouthful of corn flakes.

"Don't be a douche."

Brendon raises an eyebrow. "Well, I still haven't had my coffee, not to mention I'm a little worn out from last night, and you just made a proclamation like you're about to show me the ways of the Highlander. Is that it, Spence? Can there be only one?"

"Shut up," Spencer says. "It's time to get rid of my mustache." He points to his mouth. "I'm sick of it."

"Sick of the porn producer comments, you mean," Brendon retorts, happy to get through that without laughing. Spewed corn flakes are no one's friend.

Spencer gestures grandly. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Brendon leers and winks in an exaggerated way. "You know what helps me sleep at night."

"I do," Spencer agrees, walking over to Brendon and pulling the cereal out of his hands to put it on the counter. Under other circumstances Brendon might protest, but he doesn't feel too contrary when Spencer's pushing his shirt up and bracketing his hips with his hands, rubbing circles into Brendon's hipbones with his thumbs. "And we can do that as soon as I'm done in the bathroom. It'll only take me a couple of minutes to shave this off."

Brendon nods, about to let Spencer go, when he's suddenly struck with a brilliant idea.

"Wait," Brendon says, wrapping his fingers tight around Spencer's wrist. Spencer shoots him a questioning glance. "You should let me shave it."

Spencer laughs. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I like my skin, thanks."

Brendon sticks out his bottom lip. "I was almost a hairdresser. I can totally handle shaving one upper lip that's not mine."

"You know that saying you were almost a hairdresser doesn't count for anything, don't you?" Spencer asks. "That's like me saying I was almost an astronaut because one time Ryan and I turned a refrigerator box into a spaceship."

"Did you?" Brendon says, eyes lighting up. "That's _awesome_! We should do that, too, you know, just around the backyard or the music room. We can paint lightning bolts onto the sides and --" Brendon frowns when Spencer tries to escape again. "And I'm a _professional_. You can trust me."

Spencer looks doubtful.

Brendon tilts his head to one side, and turns the charm on, full-force. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course," Spencer says, sighing a sigh that could only be produced by someone with a long association with Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross. But then he smiles a little and relaxes. "You know I do."

"Good." Brendon beams. "Wait there," he says, gesturing at a kitchen chair, "and I'll be right back." He rushes off before Spencer can change his mind, and when he comes back, he drops a razor, shaving cream, a bowl, a couple of towels and a washcloth on the kitchen table.

Spencer raises his eyebrows.

Brendon shrugs. "I was a Boy Scout for five minutes. Always be prepared and all." He fills the bowl with hot water from the tap, and soaks the washcloth, wringing it out as he tells Spencer, "Tilt your head back."

Spencer does, watching Brendon's every move, something that Brendon hadn't anticipated. He puts the cloth over Spencer's mouth and chin, patting it down and letting the warmth seep into his fingers. Brendon makes a tower of shaving cream in his palm and pulls off the cloth with his other hand.

"See?" he says, massaging the foam all along Spencer's upper lip and jaw and neck. Spencer looks really good with his head back, throat vulnerable and exposed; Brendon likes how much Spencer must be giving to let him do this. "I know what I'm doing." Spencer doesn't talk, but a corner of his mouth lifts and he's still watching closely when Brendon dips the razor in the bowl of water and shakes it out.

Brendon goes for the mustache first, holding Spencer's chin and getting shaving cream all over his hand as he drags the razor down over Spencer's lip, slow and careful, moving closer and closer to Spencer as he goes. He smiles when Spencer's lip is bare, and when Brendon starts in on his jaw, Spencer mutters, "Maybe if you sat down, you'd be more comfortable."

"I don't think that follows the professional code," Brendon says, but he straddles Spencer's lap easily and sits, scraping the razor over Spencer's cheeks and under his chin, stretching over to rinse off from time-to-time. Every time Brendon does that, Spencer shifts under him, and it's incredibly hot. By the time Brendon gets the last bit right under Spencer's bottom lip, he's trapping his own bottom lip between his teeth and trying hard not to lose his concentration.

Brendon wipes away the excess and inhales when he gets a good look at Spencer. He likes Spencer whatever he looks like, however, whenever, but he never fully gets over how _much_ he does -- especially when Spencer's watching him like that.

"So." Brendon clears his throat and tries again. "So would you use my services again?"

Spencer grins and wraps his arms around Brendon's middle. "I don't know," he says innocently. "What else can you do?"

"Oh, I offer a wide range of things," Brendon assures him, and easily wraps his legs around Spencer's waist when he picks Brendon up and hauls him out of the room.


End file.
